The Heart Behind the Madness
by RavenclawRebel
Summary: A Gotham college student finds herself in over her head in one very dangerous game....but can she beat the Joker if he's holding the cards? Pre-TDK R&R please! COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi all! This isn't actually DefyingGravityElphaba posting...this is her friend. I've never posted a story on here before, so I'd like lots of feedback. If you like it, review it! If you hate it, at least tell me why! I'd also like to let you know that this story is halfway based on reality. As many of you may know, before TDK was released the studio hosted an alternate reality game for hardcore fans, in which "the Joker" led them on a scavenger hunt through major cities around the world. The prizes were usually new posters, clips and trailers. To adapt the ARG for my story, I removed the movie-related prizes and set the entire scavenger hunt in Gotham. I also had to make significant cuts in the plot of the game for timing purposes. However, all the links and e-mail addresses are valid, so check them out if you're interested! Read and review! ~G**

**Chapter One: I Believe in Harvey Dent Too**

"This is a GCN traffic update," the radio announced, shattering the early morning quiet. "Police activity in the area around the Gotham National Bank Building is slowing cars to a crawl downtown. GCN r--recommends a--alternate r--r--routes…" The broadcast began to go into static, eventually fading into silence. However, the clock radio had done its work; within the minute, Gwen Fleming was out of bed. She leapt over to her closet in the fashion of a ballet dancer, opened the doors wide, and in no time at all had selected her clothes for the day: a peach-colored tank top, a white camisole, and Capri-length pants with lots of pockets.

Dressed, Gwen walked to her window and began to brush out her hair. It was medium-brown, cropped to shoulder length with bangs that hung down in her eyes, flat overall but a bit staticky. Across the street, a Harvey Dent for District Attorney poster smiled back at her. The DA elections weren't until November, but Mr. Dent was obviously getting a head start. "I believe in Harvey Dent!" it declared. "Do I?" Gwen mused to herself. "Do I believe In Harvey Dent?" When her hair was straightened to her satisfaction, she reached into her desk (which overlooked the view from her fourth-floor apartment's bedroom) and pulled out a handful of bangles, which she arranged on her arms with quick dexterity. Her hands were a bit on the large side, her fingers long and delicate. Finally, she pulled her army boots out from under the bed and put them on, lacing them extra, extra-tight. Yes, now she was ready to face the day.

And why would she remember this day in particular in the years to come? Why, of course, for this was the day when everything changed.

--

While she was fixing herself a breakfast bagel, her cell phone rang, the tune of an anonymous concert piece recently released on the Internet ringing through the three-room apartment. She was on it in an instant. "Hello?"

"Hey, G." It was her best friend, Reeva Simms. Reeva, twenty-one years old, hair blond, curly, worked in a comic book shop on Seventh and Main.

"Hey. What's up?" Gwen took a bite out of her bagel as she spoke.

"I found something weird when I opened up shop today. You know anything about it?"

"Don't think so. What did you find?"

"Playing cards. Scattered all over the floor." This made Gwen stop mid-chew.

"Playing cards?"

"Yeah. They're all Jokers, and here's the really odd part: whoever put 'em there stamped 'I Believe in Harvey Dent, Too' all over them. Along with 'Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha'…"

"Yeah?" Gwen was interested now. "Think it relates to one of the ARGs?" The comic shop Reeva worked at sponsored three different Alternate Reality Games: Top of the Town, Yoshitomi Smack-Down, and Caves and Cloisters XI.

"I doubt it. Hey, you want to come down here and see the things before the manager arrives? He'll want to throw them away, I'm sure."

"You bet I do. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

When Gwen pulled up to the shop in her shiny, black Toyota, the scene was chaos. Reeva hadn't been kidding. The cards were everywhere: all over the floor, scattered on the counter, stuck between the pages of the comic books lining the shelves. Each Joker was different, but the stamped message was the same.

"Dang," Gwen said. "Say, were you just tricking me down here to help you clean up?"

"I can't be specific at this time," Reeva replied with a grin.

The pair spent the next half hour picking the cards out of their hiding places. In the end (8:45, when the manager arrived), they had found 237. Their ill-gotten gains were now loaded into a spare cardboard box, formally used for comic books, and stuffed in Gwen's trunk. She had offered to take them home (mainly because she secretly wanted them for wall art).

"Thanks a million," Reeva smiled as Gwen got into her car. Her eyes flashed back inside. "Oh, crud, wait a second!" She was back to the door in an instant, waving another Joker card between her index and middle fingers. The manager stared at them curiously. "Found another." She quickly gave it to Gwen through the window of the car and retreated back into the shop. "You rock, G!"

When Gwen got home she immediately started looking through the Joker cards in the box. She hadn't really gotten a close look at most of them down at the shop. She looked through them for the better part of an hour, the radio streaming city news in the background, but she still could not find two of the exact same card. With a chuckle, Gwen realized that she hadn't known that there were that many different kinds of card decks in the world.

Once she had all the cards sorted out (stored in a photo album until she could figure out just how to display them), Gwen realized that she hadn't even lent a thought to the purpose of the cards. "What could they all mean?" she mused to herself. She presumed that they were probably supposed to be a symbol of something. Perhaps they were put there by Dent's opponents? No, she rationalized, these were different. Harvey Dent's political opponents no doubt would have included nasty facts about Dent's personal life. The cards were, in a way, a threat. No politician would try to pull something like _that_.

Gwen walked over to her window and sat down at her desk, contemplating. This is where she usually did her schoolwork. She had moved to the apartment on her parent's money, in order to be near Gotham University. She was a year younger than all the other juniors because of her birthday, July 29. This coming fall, she would be a senior in Criminal Psychology. Now, though, it was the beginning of summer, and she was having a bit of trouble finding a good job. In fact, Gwen thought to herself, she should be spending this time checking the Gotham Times Online for job ads in the classifieds.

As she reached down for her electric green laptop, stored in the bottom drawer of the desk, a thought struck Gwen. She immediately sat back up and placed the laptop on the desk, but her eyes were on the campaign poster across the street. As the laptop booted up, she regarded the small print underneath Harvey Dent's smiling face. "Join the cause at IBelieveinHarveyDentToo . com" The second her laptop was loaded, she entered the Internet and typed in "IBelieveinHarveyDentToo . com".

**A/N: Well, there you go. If you like the direction the story is going and want me to continue, make sure and review! Thanks! ~G**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to extend a big THANK YOU to those of you who have reviewed this. I can't even tell you how much your support means to me. As I've said earlier, IBeliveinHarveyDentToo . com is valid, so if you're interested, check it out! There's not that much there anymore, but it's kind of cool. Here's part two, so I hope you like it! ~G**

**Chapter 2: Why So Serious? **

The site that greeted her was a bit of a surprise. It was an exact copy of Dent's campaign site, except that it looked like it had been defaced with graffiti. Every photograph on the site had been, well, scribbled on, given a ghoulish red grin and black, circular eyes. The words "Ha Ha Ha" were overlain in various places upon the text, and what appeared to be newspaper cut-outs were pasted over some of the words in the articles.

"Wow," breathed Gwen. She immediately reached for her cell phone again, meaning to call Reeva. Then, she thought better of it. Her boss would be angry if she was accepting calls during hours; she could tell her after work, anyways, around three-thirty or four. Instead, she picked up the phone and dialed her other best friends, roommates Tracy Hansen and Deb Waller.

Tracy was a pretty girl with pale blonde hair highlighted in hot pink. She had three piercing on each ear. Despite her punk appearance, however, she was very shy, and would only speak to her closest friends above a whisper. Deb had long black hair, which flowed, over her shoulders in layers. She aspired to be what Gwen and her friends had dubbed a "biker chick"--she rode a black Harley-Davidson and wore mostly leather with studs and other metal accessories.

Tracy answered the phone. When she found out who it was, her voice brightened. "Hiya, Gwen! How are you?"

"Pretty good. You have a computer handy?"

"Mm, yeah. Hang on." Tracy was back in a second. "Now I do. Why?"

"Go online and type in 'IBelieveInHarveyDentToo . com'," Gwen told her. She waited for a moment, listening to Tracy's fingers clack against the keys. She was the fastest typist of the bunch.

"Oh…" Tracy's voice trailed off. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Gwen answered honestly. "When Reeva got to work today, Joker cards were all over the floor. They all said that. I just decided to try typing it into the 'net."

"Looks like that's what they wanted…whoever they are," Tracy laughed nervously.

"Well, crap! What's that?!" That was Deb's voice, there in the background.

"Talk to G. She knows more than me," Tracy told her. In an instant, Deb was on the phone.

"What the heck?" Gwen quickly explained the situation to her. When she was finished, Deb replied, "I have two thoughts. Either it's someone's idea of a good laugh, or it's a new ARG. I'll bet you that manager of the store's in on it."

"I'm not sure. I have a weird feeling about it."

"You have a weird feeling about everything," Deb declared. "Say, just out of curiosity, you going to the Convention this weekend?"

"Yeah, probably. Just for a while, though. To check up on Reeva and everything." Reeva's comic book store would be manning a booth, as usual. "You?"

"Trace wants to go, so I'll probably tag along."

"Cool. I'll see you there. Maybe by then all of this will make a little more sense."

By Saturday, nothing had been cleared up about IBelieveInHarveyDentToo . com, although by then someone had leaked it to the Gotham Times, and it had made the front page on Tuesday. The GPD had said in a statement that they believed it was an elaborate prank, but rumors were circulating that a new crime lord had planted the cards as the first step of some sort of plot. Gwen thought that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she believed Harvey Dent had something to worry about. Obviously he did, too, because he had been appearing in public a lot less lately.

On the day of convention, Gwen drove down to the Gotham Metro Civic Center, carpooling with Tracy and Deb. They tried to get there early, but even so the place was swamped. It took ten minutes to find a parking place, and the only spot they could find was three blocks from the Center, _and_ had a parking meter.

"Got any quarters?" Gwen asked as she loaded the meter. "If not, we're going to have to leave in half an hour." As her friends contributed some of their own spare change, Deb casually said,

"So, you hear? The Batman was sighted in our neighborhood last night."

"Oh, yeah?" Deb and Tracey lived about ten minute's drive away from Gwen. "That's wicked. You see him or anything?"

"No, but Trace said she thought she heard someone on the roof last night."

"Very cool," Gwen grinned, patting her friend on the shoulder as they headed inside.

The inside of the Convention was still under construction. Some of the booths were only half-way assembled, while others were still in the process of unloading their wares. However, the place was already starting to fill up. Already, people in armor, with manga hair and elaborate face paint clogged the narrow alleyways between the rows of booths. Nonetheless, the trio had no trouble locating Reeva, laying comics out in a spread on her table.

"Hey, girl! Need some help unloading those?"

By the time the comic books were all out, the place had really gotten packed. Gwen turned to Deb and Trace and told them, "Keep an eye on the time, guys, and meet me back here at ten-thirty. 'Kay?"

"'Course," Deb said with a salute. Within seconds, she and her quiet companion had melted away into the crowd.

With a wave to Reeva, Gwen set off into the crowd herself. Before long she was totally lost in the mass of people: aliens, medieval warriors, superheroes and schoolgirls packed around her, heading for the nearest booth in search of manga, cosplay accessories and décor. A man in a clown mask stepped on her foot.

"I'm sorry," he said politely. His voice, Gwen thought, seemed very kind, but she thought she detected an undertone of something not quite right under his sweet exterior. "Let me make it up to you. Here." The man thrust a dollar bill into her hand.

"No, sir, you don't have to--" Gwen tried to stop him, but the man had already disappeared into the crowd, and she knew she had no chance of finding him. With a regretful sigh, she regarded the bill the man had given her. What she saw made her hair prickle.

On the bill, George Washington's face had been defaced. He now regarded her with blackened eyes and a familiar red scrawl of a smile. In addition, instead of saying "One Dollar" on the scroll underneath Washington's picture, the bill read "Why So Serious?".

**A/N: Alright, so, there we go. Now we've added a couple more characters to the mix, not to mention this mysterious masked clown. Gee, wonder who he might be? Anyways, please read and review. Seriously, anything you have to say means the world to me. Thanks for tuning in, and I'll be back with part three just as soon as I can! ~G**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who have reviewed so far! Your encouragement means a lot to me. So, here's part three. Enjoy, and let me know what you think! ~G**

**Chapter Three: We'll Supply the Smile**

As much as this unnerved Gwen, she had the sense to recognize that the man who had given her the bill must have been related in some way to the comic store break-in. This solidified in her mind that this was probably an ARG. She noted that some of the people around her had similar dollar bills in their hands or sticking out of their pockets, indicating that there was more than one distributor in the Convention. Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen noticed someone with a laptop case. She quickly rushed up to him before she lost him again.

"Hello, sir. I'm very sorry to bother you, but may I please use your laptop for a moment?"

"What for?" the young man asked suspiciously. He was dressed up as a character from Caves and Cloisters XI.

"I see you like Alternate Reality Gaming," Gwen grinned, changing the subject. "I think I've just discovered a new one. The organizers are right here at the convention, and I think I've figured out how to kick-start the game. Want to be a part of that?"

This, of course, worked wonders. The youth handed her the laptop without a qualm, then looked eagerly over her shoulder. It was already on, so it took her no time to log into the Internet. Once there, she typed in "WhySoSerious . com".

Gwen had been right; she was now positive that the two incidents were correlated, as her prompt once again yielded an actual website. This site wasn't a parody of anything she'd ever seen. It was a simple black screen, with a graphic of a bomb counting down and a defaced Uncle Sam poster that read

_Tired of your miserable, dead-end job? Ready for a change of pace? Our elite organization is expanding! We're looking for fresh faces to represent us in an important upcoming negotiation. You must be 18 or older to apply. _

_Enjoy a career in a lucrative, ultra high-profile field. Our associates make their own hours, enjoy great benefits and, in some cases, work from home. _

_Do you have what it takes? Qualified recruits must have: _

_An open mind. _

_Strong moral compass. _

_The ability to improvise. _

_Recruits are encouraged to ask a friend with access to the internet to help them from home. If you don't have any friends, consider hiring one. _

_Tryouts begin when the clock hits zero at 32-42'29.13"N 117-9'40.91"W. _

_Bring your sense of humor, but don't worry -- we'll supply the smile. _

"You were right! It is an ARG!" the man cried. "What now?"

Gwen checked her watch. "That bomb is set to blow in forty-five minutes. Go round up anyone who might be interested and get them to those coordinates. I'll do the same."

"What about the friend with Internet access?"

Gwen thought for a moment. "I'll go home and man things, but if you can find anyone else who doesn't mind missing the party, send them, too. There'll be a ton of you, and I'll need all the help I can get. Okay?"

"Great," the young man said. "Thanks!"

In an instant, he'd vanished into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Gwen dialed Tracy. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Trace. Listen, remember that site I showed you? Well, some creep just handed me a dollar bill marked the same way as _Harvey Dent's face_ was on that website I showed you. The message on the bill led me to another site. I'm thinking it's an ARG, but the fake bomb on the site winds down in forty-five minutes and I need you to get to the coordinates it gave. Is Deb with you?"

"Yeah, she's right here."

"Get Reeva and try to get her to cut out, too. Tell everybody around you what's up, 'kay? Oh, and I've got to run home. The site said someone with Internet access was needed, too, and I told the guy whose laptop I borrowed that I was going to do it. I'll try and come pick you guys up afterwards, but if not, can you ride with Reeva?"

"Yeah, sure. …Hey, G? I kind of have a bad feeling about this."

Gwen bit her tongue before she said, "I do, too." Instead, she said, "Don't worry about it! A web site, instructions, a virtual bomb, coordinates…it's got to be a scavenger hunt, right?"

"I guess so…" Tracy said uneasily. "You'd better get going, though." She hung up.

"Yeah…" Gwen said to the dial tone. As she pushed her way to the door, she thought to herself that it was now up to her to find out what was_ really_ going on.

**A/N: So, there we go. It looks like the Joker's ARG is on. Thanks for reading, and I'll catch you next time! ~G**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, and here we have part four. Sorry it's a little longer than the others I've posted, but I'm pretty sure that the chapter lengths are going to vary for timing purposes. Some of them may be a little shorter than average, too, but I'm trying to keep them at about a page and half in a word processor. Read, review and enjoy!!**

**_Elphaba here... Sorry about reposting the entire story plus chapter four... That is what happens when you have exams and aren't getting enough sleep! So, enjoy! And for those who also read my stories, I'll try to update those soon! :) Enjoy!_**

**Chapter Four: Someone I Admire**

By the time Gwen was back home, on the phone with Deb and logged into WhySoSerious . com, there was only three minutes left on the bomb's timer. Down at the bottom of the screen, she noticed a small field. She wondered if she was supposed to put in her e-mail address, but decided against it.

"How many people are down there?" Gwen asked. The coordinates had turned out to be a square just south of the Civic Center.

"Several hundred. The Convention had pretty much emptied out when we were leaving," Deb replied.

Three…two…one…suddenly, her computer's speakers overflowed. The sound of maniacal laughter filled her room as the bomb splattered all over the place. When the virtual dust cleared, a message was displayed on the screen.

_Ready to play a joke? _

_Tell your stooges on the ground to look up. They'll tell you what to do next. _

"The computer says look up," Gwen told Deb. She waited a couple seconds, then heard Deb gasp. "What is it? What?"

"It's…it's a phone number," Deb said in quiet awe. "Someone's writing a phone number in the _sky_! Here, wait, I'll give it to you. You'd better call it. …It's 800-395-9646."

Gwen cursed the fact that the only phone she had in her home was a cell. Reluctantly, she dialed in. A disturbing audio message played over the line.

"Hello? Hello? Can...can anyone hear me? Please...please help...OK! OK! I'll read it! I'll read it! 'How many clowns does it take to get a good laugh? 401.' I...I don't get it. These jokes aren't funny... Please! Please! I'll keep going! I'll keep going! 'If you want to be part of my crew, you're going to need to prove you're up to the challenge. Tell your lackeys at home the first punch line is **INSIDE JOKE**, and if they complain, tell them to button it: they'll get something out of this, too. Remember, this is not a race. Real crooks do it with style, not speed. One final joke: What's the last thing I'll ever...ever say?' Wait! Wait! Please! Don't! Don't!" The message finished with the sound of a gunshot.

Gwen was shaking. The man she had just heard had not been acting, she was certain of it. His terror was too real. However, she managed to type the phrase "INSIDE JOKE" into the field. A new page came up, showing a location on the map and a small message in cut-outs. Underneath this, in scrawled red letters, it said

_While your friends are on their way, tell me something. _

_Catherine, Annie, Elizabeth, and Mary Jane had someone I admire in common. _

_Who was it? _

Gwen told Deb the location, then turned her attention the question. Those names sounded familiar. She quickly grabbed her Criminals in History binder and flipped through her notes. Five or ten pages in, she found what she was looking for. Those four women had all been victims of Jack the Ripper.

With a shudder, Gwen typed "JACK THE RIPPER" into the field. The new display showed a different location, a message and another clue:

_Very good! Always leave them smiling, that's what I say! _

_Now you'll need your friends to collect some tools of the trade from our representatives. Use the pass phrase "I FEEL PRETTY" to take the next step in your exciting new career! Remember, though, it's the early worm that gets the hook. First come, first served. _

_While your friends dash off to connect the dots --- have a laugh on me..._

A bloodcurdling laugh came forth from the speakers. Once Deb reported that the crew was there, Gwen relayed the new location and replayed the laugh. The clue sounded to her like it was suggesting something about Morse Code. This time, she took down the durations of the laugh on a Post-It note, then assigned them to dashes and dots. A quick look on a Morse Code website indicated that the new password was "MONTEBANK".

The rest of the clues followed in a similar fashion, until eventually Gwen received the last clue. By this time, Deb and everyone else was parading around in clown makeup and being trailed by cops. The message read

_There's just one more part of our hiring process. When your friends on the ground go back to the vans, they will need to submit one of __their__own__ to complete the application process. _

_Tell them that when they have found the lucky applicant, they should be sure to get the plate number! _

Gwen relayed the message to her friends. A couple moments later, she was informed by Deb that several men had gotten out of one of these "vans", taken a man from the crowd, put him in back and drove away. She'd gotten the plate number. She also told Gwen that the man they'd taken away was the man whose laptop Gwen had borrowed. She sounded out of breath, but said they'd had a great time. A couple minutes, later, though, Gwen heard her gasp again.

"What is it?" Gwen asked with dread.

"The police just told us through a megaphone to disperse immediately. They said…they said the man taken away in the van had been found in an alley. They said he was dead."

Gwen gasped and, fighting a sudden wave of nausea, hung up the phone. Her head was spinning. She lay her forehead down on the keyboard and waited for a couple moments. The phone rang again.

"Deb…" Gwen muttered and reached for it, intending not to answer. But the number was different. Just in case, she answered the phone.

"Hello hello, beautiful," a voice said on the other end. With a shudder, Gwen recognized the voice as the voice of the man who'd given her the dollar bill at the Convention, only a couple of hours earlier.

"You," she said coldly.

"Why, yes, me," the voice replied, sounding taken aback. "Did I do something to offend you?"

"You fooled us all. You didn't tell anybody this game of yours would kill somebody."

"Oh, it didn't, dear. The police…they're just trying to scare you all away. Keep you from playing my games. My men would _never_ kill one of our own."

The voice was very persuasive and, based on the reports Harvey Dent had published about some of the policemen he'd investigated in Internal Affairs, Gwen could believe they might do something like that.

"The police are just schemers. They don't want us having any fun. I wouldn't worry about anything. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you all…or you, either."

"Oh, yeah?" Gwen asked, but her voice was wavering.

"I promise," the voice told her. "For what it's worth. …You know, you remind me of Jessica. She was the loneliest girl in high school, and my first big kiss."

Suddenly, the line cut off.

Dazed, Gwen raised her head and stared at the computer screen blearily. The site had changed. The message now read

_I'll be in touch soon. Keep your eyes peeled._

_~J_

**A/N: So there you have it. This was the first chapter in which I had to write actual, honest-to-goodness Joker dialogue. Many of you may have already tried it yourselves, but it is very difficult! I constantly find myself thinking, "Wait, he wouldn't say that!" and then having to go back and alter it. I hope everyone thought I did at least a decent job! Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, guys, here's chapter five! Normally I'd post another chapter on Christmas and New Year's or something, but my benefactor Elphie's going skiing, so I won't be able to post any more until sometime in January. So...here's your Christmas present from me to you, a little early but here nonetheless. Read and review!**

**Chapter Five: A Man of My Word**

Gwen and Reeva texted about the show late into the night. Reeva and everyone else Gwen knew had been enchanted by the game, and couldn't wait for "J" to make the next thread of the ARG public. The game had been very in-depth, must have taken a couple of weeks just to put together. Each clue had had two parts, a part for the Internet players to fill in and a portion for the players on the ground. It had turned out in the end that Gwen was the only one willing to play the ARG from home, so she'd had to guide the crowd alone--all 600 of them. Some of the players on the ground had convinced the live entertainment at the Convention to lend them their sound system. A couple young people followed the group in a pickup truck loaded with speakers, and Deb had announced Gwen's instructions over the microphone. Gwen assumed that from now on she would be the "At-Home Girl", the only one responsible for providing instructions for the masses. That was fine with her, though. At least then she'd be able to keep a closer watch over J's movements.

Things stayed quiet for about a week, though Gwen checked WhySoSerious . com every couple of hours for updates. When J made his next move, she would need to know. She was still looking for a job, but hadn't been having much luck as of yet.

On the Friday after the convention, Gwen opened her door in the morning to find a copy of the Gotham Times outside her door, wrapped in plastic and tied up with a red bow.

"Hmm," she said, picking up the newspaper in one swift motion and shutting herself back inside. "I don't subscribe to the newspaper, and even if I did, this is weird."

Gwen dashed back over to her couch, sat down and unwrapped the paper. There was no special note inside or anything; she had no idea where the paper had come from, although she suspected it had something to do with the ARG. Certain there was a clue, she began to flip through the Times.

It took her about ten minutes to find what she was looking for. There, in the corner of the front page of classifieds, was a tiny message in italics:

_A classified ad in our last issue was incorrect. The ad should have read: _

"_Charming, handsome man with dazzling smile seeks amateur clowns for discreet encounters. No previous sense of humor necessary. Criminal record a plus. Interested? Write to humanresourceswhysoserious . com in the full understanding that we have your email address and might send you alarming, disturbing or annoying material at any moment."_

"WhySoSerious . com?" Gwen said knowingly. "Sorry, J. I'm not giving you my e-mail address _that_ easily." She immediately got out her phone and dialed Reeva. "Hey, Reeve. It's me. You subscribe to the Gotham Times, right?"

"Yup. You're calling about the correction in the classifieds, aren't you?"

"You got it. I'm not sure whether I trust it or not."

"You are _so _suspicious of this guy, Gwen! Gosh! I mean, it's just a game. And besides, it's fine. I sent a message to the address about ten or fifteen minutes ago. No harm done."

"Oh, yeah? You get a reply?"

"Right away. Must be automatic. Here, I'll read it to you. '_See you found my little message. So, do you think you have what it takes to be a part of my circle of friends? Are you a backstabbing, self-promoting, ambitious clown who will do anything to prove yourself to me? Put your feet up, take a little rest. I'll be in touch in a few days, and then I'll have a little job for you._'"

Oh, yes. Sounds very innocent."

"Gwen, it's an ARG!" Reeva said with exasperation. "Listen, if you're too worried about the 'safety' of this freaking thing, then don't play it anymore! I'm sure we can find somebody else to man the Internet next time!"

"Reeva, chill out. I'm going to keep playing the game."

"Yeah? Why, if you're so worried about it?"  
Gwen paused for a moment. "I'm going to beat this guy at his own game."

"AARGH!" Reeva cried. The line went dead. Gwen stared at the phone in surprise. Maybe she was being a little paranoid.

Nonetheless, she still wanted to keep on eye on J. She went over to her computer (which was now on all the time, plugged into the wall), brought up her e-mail, and began to put together an e-mail to humanresourceswhysoserious . com. With a hint of frustration, she realized that her only e-mail address blatantly stated her name in it, making it completely obvious to J what she went by. She thought about making another account, but then rationalized that he already knew her phone number somehow, so chances are this wasn't a big step anyways.

She wanted to sound like a casual job seeker, just in case J didn't connect her with the girl he'd called on the day of the Convention. As she typed the message, Gwen thought to herself, "Why did he call me, anyways?"

In the end, the message just said, "How are the benefits? ~G" Reluctantly, Gwen clicked SEND. She'd been expecting an automatic response based on what Reeva had told her, but it actually took about five minutes for her to get a reply. In the meantime, she scoured the paper herself, looking for a clue based on the reply Reeva had gotten. "If you know where to look," she said to herself. "If you know where to look."

The reply she got was decidedly _not_ the reply Reeva had received. It read,

_"So it's Gwen, hmm? I like that. I see that you found the newspaper we left you. To answer your question, working for me will get you free items, experience in various fields, and (in some cases) special career bonuses. Interested? You've been a very valuable asset so far, my dear, and I'd hate to see you quit now. Just sit back for a few days, take a breather. I'll be in touch. I'm a man of my word. ~J"_

**A/N: So, ta-da! There you go. I might try to get another post in before Elphaba leaves, but if I don't....this is it! Hope you liked it, and see you next year!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Elphaba just got back from skiing, which means that I can post again! I've had Ch. 6 done for a while, but I had to wait until Elphie got back to do anything about it. So here it is! Thank you for all of the reviews I've gotten so far, and I'd like to remind everybody that constructive criticism is welcome. Oh, and I realized earlier that I forgot a disclaimer so here it is (and this goes for the entire story): I do not own the Joker, his ARG or any other elements of Christopher Nolan's Batman universe. They all belong to Christopher Nolan. Enjoy! ~G**

**Chapter Six: It'll Be a Scream**

J kept to his word indeed, and things stayed quiet for five days. At least, for the gamers, things did. In the meantime, WhySoSerious . com had been discovered by the media, and the GPD was doubling their efforts to track down the instigator who had brought about the events on the day of the Convention. A five-hundred dollar reward was being offered for anyone with information regarding that day. Gwen thought about stepping forward, but upon further contemplation decided it would be better to work alone for the time being. Harvey Dent was still under heavy guard, but no other threats had been made against him. Gwen had also been hearing rumors that the Gotham underworld had a contract out on J as well. She was unsure of what all that entailed, but something within her hoped that J would be able to escape the Gotham mob.

The next Wednesday, though, her cell phone went off at seven fifty sharp. Gwen was in the middle of getting dressed when it rang. She got to it on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Well, hello, Gwen." It was J; Gwen recognized his voice instantly.

"Oh. Uh…hey."

"You sound nervous," J said with concern. "Here, I'll make it fast. I'm giving you a ten minute head-start on the next part of my little game. Here's what you're going to need to do. Go to the bakery on Twelfth Avenue. There's a cake on reserve there, under the name 'Robin Banks.' Ask for it and bring it home. The clue goes live at eight, and the masses will have gobbled all my treats up by eight fifteen. …Can you remember that?"

"I think so."

"Good. Repeat it back to me."

"Um, yeah. Why are you telling me this, anyways?"

"This is the next step in the application process, Gwennie. I thought you might like a bit of an advantage. Or have you moved on to bigger and better things?"

"Oh…no. Thanks, I guess."

"Then go right now. I guarantee it'll be a scream." Maniacal laughter rang in Gwen's ears from the earpiece, cutting off mid-laugh as the line went dead.

Gwen pulled on her shirt as fast as she could, put the strap of her purse over her head and grabbed a hairbrush on the way out the door. She straightened her hair in the elevator, and hit the ground running on the main floor, nearly bowling over a pizza delivery man on the way out of the apartment complex. She was half-way power walking, half-way dashing down the street, her mind on only one thing: "The Lovin' Oven," the bakery on Twelfth Avenue. As she hurried through the throngs of commuters, she asked herself why J had just called her. It almost sounded like, from what he'd said, that he was trying to give her some headway over her competitors, if that's what they really were. Why would he care that much? In any case, J had taken a liking to Gwen, and in her mind this could only work to bring her closer to her goal of bringing him to justice.

Gwen reached "The Lovin' Oven" in about five minutes. Seven fifty-seven, the clock on the wall in the cozy one-room bakery read. It was a humble place, with checkered flooring and 50s barstools, that always smelled of fresh-baked donuts and other confectionaries. Sometimes Gwen and her friends had stopped there for donuts in the mornings. She rushed up to the counter, on the verge of exhaustion from the long run, and quickly said to the boy behind the counter, "Robin Banks. Here for my cake."

With a nod and a knowing smile, the boy said, "Right away, Miss." He disappeared into the back for a couple of seconds, reappearing almost at once with a white box. "Here you are, Miss Banks. Oh, and the boss says not to look at it until you're alone."

"Thank you very much!" Gwen smiled. Then, placing the cake under one arm, she retreated from the bakery as fast as she could and disappeared into the throngs of people. At the corner, she looked back at "The Lovin' Oven," just in time to see three excited young men run inside. She made sure and got out of sight before they spotted her.

When she got back home, Gwen set the box down on the coffee table and, after a short breather, checked to see what it contained. Sure enough, a cake was inside, beautifully decorated with the greatest of care. It had been frosted with vanilla frosting, and purple and green confectioner's sugar shapes encircled the round cake's edges. In the center, it said in chocolate frosting, "_Robin Banks, call me now! 626-519-6790_." Gwen grabbed her cell phone and dialed in the number. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the cake itself started ringing.

"Crap!" she cried, and dashed out into the kitchen. She was back in a second with a pair of oven mitts and some tongs. With a hint of regret at the thought of destroying the cake, she quickly dug the top off with her right hand, using the tongs to pull out a sealed plastic baggie with her left. The cell phone was inside, still ringing. She slipped off the oven mitt and dropped it in on the remains of the cake, broke the seal on the bag and pulled out the cell phone. When she hit 'accept', the line went dead. Clearly, J had simply intended for her to find the phone.

Once the bag was rinsed off in the sink, Gwen pulled out the rest of the contents. Inside was a Joker card just like the kind they'd found in the comic book store, a charger for the phone, and a small note card. On it, in newspaper cut-outs, it said

_Wow, you really took the cake! Now, put the icing on it: call 626-451-7590 immediately from this phone and THIS PHONE ONLY. Do NOT give this phone number to anyone else. _

When Gwen called the number, a relatively creepy recorded message played itself, in which a bright, perky young woman said, "Thank you for calling Rent-A-Clown! Now we know who you are!" Immediately after hanging up, Gwen received a text message from humanresourceswhysoserious . com. It simply said, "_Good work, clown! Keep this phone charged and with you at all times. Don't call me, I'll call you...eventually._"

**A/N: So there we have it. By the way, there are several photographs available via Google of the real The Dark Knight ARG Cakes. (There's also a video on Youtube of Perez Hilton opening the cake mailed to him by Warner Bros.) If you're interested, make sure and check them out! ~G**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: No reviews last chapter! (Was it really that bad? Seriously? I told you negative reviews were okay.) Despite this depressing setback, here's chapter seven. Hopefully everyone will approve of it a little bit more than they did last time. *grin* ~G**

**Chapter Seven: V as in Victim**

It just so happened that Tracy called later that day to say that she had managed to get one of the other cakes J had scattered throughout Gotham, and had had a similar experience as Gwen, eventually finding a phone stashed inside her cake.

"It was scary!" she confided to Gwen. "Just as I came out with the cake, these two guys and this girl came up, and I swear they looked so mad that I'd beat them there I was afraid they were going to mug me!"

"I'm sure they wouldn't have mugged you, Trace," Gwen said, but inwardly she wasn't so sure. "So, anyways, I guess this means we made the first cut in the application process, right?"

"What?" Tracy asked. "What are you talking about, Gwen?"

Gwen realized that J had been the one to talk about it in those terms.. She didn't want her friends to know that she'd been in contact with him. "Oh, nothing. I was joking."

"Well, okay, then."

The next day, a site called ClownCommunicationsGotham . com surfaced. Deb called Gwen about it at midday. It was clearly not J-affiliated; instead, it simply served as a forum in which J's ARG could be discussed freely and advice could be shared. A special board was set up for the people who'd been able to get a hold of the cakes (there were twenty-two in the end), and Gwen and Tracy had been able to acquaint themselves with the other Phonies, as the rest of the site had taken to calling them.

The police department was working themselves to death trying to hunt down J, but no headway had been made as of yet. ClownCommunicationsGotham . com showed up in the Gotham Times three days after its creation. Most of the posters feared the site would be shut down, but after nothing happened for two days people began to speculate that the GPD hadn't been able to come up with enough evidence to take the site offline. J had promised everyone he'd be in touch soon, but nobody knew anything yet. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that something happened: the Phonies all received text messages from humanresourceswhysoserious . com.

Gwen was at a red light in uptown Gotham when the message came in, on the way home from visiting her parents. Excited, she read the message. It said, "_You ready for a job, clown? The boss wants me to start you off easy. I'm going to give you a secret letter. V as in Victim._"

Ten minutes later, another message came in for Gwen, this time as she was pulling into the parking garage. This one said, "_You're paying attention bozos. Here's a few bookend letters to add to your 17 to make the destination clearer: wcwowm. Make sure and tell all your friends._"

As soon as Gwen made it back into her room, she logged onto ClownCommunicationsGotham . com. A thread had already been started in the Phonies board about the messages. It looked as though everybody had received the second text message, along with the first one which contained a letter of their own. It took about two hours for the last of the Phonies to post their letters. Then, the group started trying to unscramble them, certain that they spelled something.

Gwen refreshed the page every couple of minutes while she watched the Gotham News, with one hand scribbling out anagrams on a Post-It note. Around noon, somebody posted their solution: "CLOWN TRAVEL AGENCY." Sounded viable to Gwen, so she typed WhySoSerious . com/ClownTravelAgency into the Internet. She was surprised: nothing. This time, she tried ClownTravelAgency . com. This site was valid, alright. This time, the page showed a suitcase covered in Gotham City travel stickers. The tag on the suitcase listed a departure date: tomorrow.

"Oh, boy," Gwen said with a mirthless chuckle. She wondered if she'd be getting another call from J.

Gwen didn't sleep well that night, instead spending most of the early evening texting with Deb, who was wired about the event tomorrow, and the later evening staring at the blink of her fire alarm. She eventually dozed off around midnight, and woke back up at six forty-seven. Tired, she got dressed in the half-light and watched the sun come up over Gotham. Then, she booted up her computer and headed to ClownTravelAgency . com, turning on the news for company while she refreshed the page.

The update came at seven: a note from J and a list of addresses throughout Gotham, along with what looked like a locker combination listed with each address.

_Ready to have a ball? _

_A special bag of fun awaits the first to claim it, but you'd better strike fast, there's no time to spare!_

_--_

**A/N: So there you have it, everyone! Did I do better this time? Personally, I think so, mainly because I didn't have to write any Joker dialogue. There will be some next chapter, though, so don't get discouraged! No matter what you thought, please review. I appreciate you taking the time to read this, and I'll talk to you later! ~G**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'd like to thank .fire333 for the review that they gave me last chapter. It was very encouraging to me. Anyways, I honestly meant to update sooner, but there's so much going on for me right now, that this was the first I had time to slap something together. Here it is. As I promised, we will be seeing more of the Joker this chapter as Gwen heads after his next clue. Read and review!!**

**Chapter Eight: Now We're Talking**

Gwen quickly found the nearest address to her and dashed out the door, the address and combo written in black ink on the back of her hand. She thought about driving, but decided it would be faster to walk. As she ran, it occurred to her that based on J's clue the location she was headed to was most likely a bowling alley. It also occurred to her that J hadn't called her this time. She tried to push the unhappy thought out of her head.

Gwen reached the bowling alley (for that is what it was) within the quarter hour. The place looked deserted, but the lights were on inside. She was confident that she was the first one there. She quickly stepped inside and walked to the ball rental counter, where a lone man stood working sudoku puzzles.

"Oh, you're here," he said as she approached. "That was fast." He pointed towards the locker hallway. "The locker number is 277."

"Thank you!" Gwen replied gratefully. When she got to the locker in question, she saw that, indeed, no one had been to the locker yet. She could see an undisturbed leather bag through the grating. She quickly put in the combination and the lock clicked open, at which point she seized the bag and started to walk away.

She stumbled and nearly fell: the bag was enormously heavy. With difficulty, she was able to make it past the ball rental counter and out the door. The man watched her curiously as she went. "The boss said not to open it until you were alone!"

"Okay! Thanks again!"

It took Gwen about half an hour to get back home lugging the heavy bag. As soon as she'd locked herself into the apartment, she set the bag down on the floor with a thump and collapsed next to it. Once she'd finished panting for air, she hoisted herself into a sitting position and opened the bag.

The contents of the bag was more straightforward than it had been with the cake: it contained a bowling ball engraved with a name and number, a Joker card, a different cell phone, a charger, and a short message from J. This one read_Nice work, clown! Now call the number on the ball immediately, from this phone and THIS PHONE ONLY. Don't give this number to anyone else, or I'll know._

When Gwen called the number on the ball, a live person answered.

"Thank you for calling Rent-A-Clown!" she said. "We now know who you are. Good--" Just then, the woman on the other end let out a small squeak. A muffled voice said something to the woman, to which she replied, "Yes, sir." Then, the phone sounded as if it had been taken from her. Seconds later, a new voice spoke--a familiar voice.

"Hello, Gwen."

"Oh. Hello!"

"You found the ball! I'm so pleased."

"Um, thanks. You didn't…call…or anything, so I wasn't sure…"

"Oh, Gwennie, why so serious? This was simply a test on your part I wanted to see if you had the right stuff to work for me. You can't expect me to spoon-feed you all the time, my dear."

"I don't!" Gwen said indignantly. The voice on the other end chuckled mildly.

"Now we're talking. Just wanted to say congratulations. We'll be in touch soon, I'm sure."

"Hey, wait!"

"Yes?"

Gwen wasn't quite sure how to put what she had kept J on the phone for. "Well, it's just…you've called me a lot now, and you seem to know everything about me, and I…I don't even know your real name."

J sighed. "Think about it, beautiful. The answer is staring you right in the face." Gwen said nothing. J crooned, "What have I left for you and your friends to find at every twist and turn?"

"…Joker cards," Gwen admitted.

"So what does that mean I want you to call me?"

"…The Joker?"

"You sure do know how to put a smile on a guy's face." The line went dead.

--

**A/N: So there we go! At last, Gwen finally knows just who she's dealing with. The next chapter will be a little bit shorter, just to let everyone know, due to timing issues, but I hope to have it up by Sunday, at the latest. Anything you have to say will mean the world to me. Until then!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I am *so* sorry about the error in last chapter's author's note! In case anybody noticed, it's supposed to have thanked ready . aim. fire333 for their review, but for some reason didn't upload it correctly. (I typed that, I swear!!) I'd still like to thank them and Anakin'sQueen for their reviews. Elphie's started e-mailing me the Story Alert messages she receives, and I'm feeling overwhelmed with all of this support. Everyone who's subscribed or reviewed so far: this chapter's for you! :) ~G**

_**Elphie here! Thank you guys so much for reading and enjoying G's story… She's a great writer (obviously) and is the best friend ever! So, the reason I am writing this is because G is planning a sequel, so let us know if you want the sequel! I don't know how many chapters are left, since I have the full story on my laptop, undivided by chapters. So, please enjoy and let us know about the possible sequel! (I had a sneak peek, and it is awesome, as is this story!) **_

**Chapter Nine: It's All Part of the Plan**

"That is just not fair!" Reeva shouted when Gwen told her about the bowling ball that afternoon. "You don't even want to play the darned game, and you're beating _everybody_ at it!"

"I'm not trying to beat anybody," Gwen grinned. "It's not about that. I told you…" her voice turned serious. "I just want to beat the--J--at his own game. That's all."

"You sure about that?" Deb asked in the background. She was over at Reeva's house for the evening. "You don't sound too happy about it!"

"Don't be silly. I'm fine," Gwen said. But, deeper inside, she found herself wondering if she was fine, after all.

The next week, a major cop bust was reported on ClownCommunicationsGotham . com. About half the members of the site posted that they'd been asked by J to try and break into the Gotham National Bank. They'd all been caught by the GPD, and Lieutenant Jim Gordon had told them that to escape jail time they'd have to work undercover for the police in an upcoming sting. At least, that's what Tracy said. She'd found the thread, but by the time Gwen had tried to check it out, someone had deleted it. She guessed whoever it was didn't want anybody to know.

About a week after this, the front page of the Gotham Times reported the busting of 27 Gotham policemen who had been working for the mob under the table. They'd been caught in Operation Slipknot, the article said, and although it wasn't very specific about what the operation had involved, Gwen and her friends suspected that their friends had been involved in the sting. Sure enough, the next day all the Phonies were sent a private message saying that the people caught in the bank crisis had been released from suspicion. Another board had been set up for the people who'd intercepted phones from the bowling alleys, as well. Gwen was the only member to be both a Phonie and a B-Phonie, the name coined for the phone owners who'd gotten their phones in the bowling alleys.

A couple days later, all the members of were sent a high-priority PM. It said that all of the members involved in Operation Slipknot had received a text message that morning from J. It read, "_I wouldn't worry about Gordon. IT'S ALL PART OF THE PLAN._" Somebody thought to type WhySoSerious . com/ItsAllPartofthePlan into their web browser, which turned out to be a valid address as well. The site showed the portraits of twelve presidents, each one listing a street address somewhere in Gotham. There was also a clock counting down to 6:00 p.m. two days from then. Threads popped up all over the forum, in which the members organized themselves into groups and selected locations to head to. Somebody pointed out that each address would probably need a stay-at-home player to read clues off of the Internet, similar to the first scavenger hunt. It was immediately obvious that Gwen could not work all twelve clue trails at once, so she signed herself up for just one: New Hampton Court. Reeva, Tracy and Deb were all planning to meet up there as well, along with twenty-seven others that Gwen didn't know personally. Everyone was really excited about the new scavenger hunt, for surely (they thought) that was what it was going to be.

At five thirty on the day of the new game Gwen started setting herself up for the long night. She didn't plan to spend the whole time sitting at her desk chair, which got a little uncomfortable after a while. She laid out the television remote, her clock radio, a cup of espresso, some chocolate kisses and a Bluetooth headset on the coffee table. At five forty-five she called Deb, who again planned to serve as the one who relayed messages to the group. Most everybody was already there at New Hampton Court, Deb told her. A buzz of excitement filled the air. At five fifty-five, Gwen logged onto the Internet and made it to WhySoSerious . com/ItsAllPartofthePlan. The site was unchanged from what it had been before. She put on her Bluetooth headset and tested it.

"All clear," Deb said. "And three…two…one…"

At six o'clock sharp, Gwen refreshed the page. Now, the presidents' pictures were all captioned with speech blurbs. Gwen clicked on the president whose instructions pertained to the New Hampton Court search. She read the introduction to herself, and then the first clue aloud.

**A/N: Just to let everybody know, if there are any blank spots where a URL looks like it should be in this or any of the chapter, it's because is omitting the addresses from the chapters. I've been trying to put spaces between the dot com and the rest of the sentence, but if I've missed any, it's my own fault. Please excuse my error, and let me know what you think! Chapter Ten is coming soon! ~G**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get back, everyone! I know that I left you on kind of a cliffhanger there, but it's been a busy week, really busy, and I'm having trouble with my wrists. The diagnosis has changed a couple of times, but now they're saying my left wrist is mildly sprained with inflamed tendons and my right just has the tendons. ...Needless to say, I haven't had a good, ah, opportunity to send my next post to Elphie yet. Here it is, though, everyone! Enjoy.**

**Chapter Ten: You Might Have What It Takes**

_Ready to get cracking? Here are the instructions to relay to your clowns on the ground. Don't go losing your mind because you need to remember all the answers - you'll need them in about 30 minutes. _

_Round and round and round she goes. How many horses? Everybody knows! So count the cherubs instead._

"I think they mean the carousel, by the way," she added.

"No, duh!" Deb chided. She held the phone away from her ear, and in the background could be heard yelling, "Okay, people! Count the cherubs on the carousel across the street in the park!"

A couple minutes later, she was back with Gwen. "We're getting two numbers: 27 and 29. Oh, and one guy got 17."

"Don't listen to him. Which answer came up the most?"

"Twenty-seven. That's what I got."

"I'll take both down, just in case. Okay, here's your next clue:"

_Find the checkerboard near the 'Flish' in the ground at 7__th__ Ave. and W. 40__th__ St. How many squares in the grid, kid?_

"Seventh Avenue and West Fortieth, everybody!" Deb yelled. The sound of footsteps could be heard for several minutes. "Okay, we're there. Now what was the clue?"

Gwen repeated it slowly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. A Flish? What's a Flish? …Oh, wait, here Trace found it. It's this weird little engraving in the sidewalk."

"Checker pattern?"

"You got it."

"Count the squares in the grid."

"'Kay," Deb affirmed. "Count the squares in the grid!" A few minutes later, she said, "Most people got 54."

"Any other significant numbers?"

"We got several 47s, but Reeva did the math and she says that can't be, because 47 is a prime number."

"Just go with whatever she says. Here's clue three:"

_Let's get right to the point. Go to the east corner of 8__th__ Ave. and W. 40__th__ St. and count the number of spikes between the green and white orbs._

"Eighth Avenue and West Fortieth!" Within five minutes, Deb came back in, "Okay, we're there. Count the number of spikes between the green and white orbs, people!"

"What is the most popular number?"

"Sixteen."

"Okay. So, I've got…27-54-16. Is that right?"

"I think so. …Yeah, Trace and Reeve think so, too."

"Alright. What do you think I'm supposed to do now?"

"Beats me. You're the one at the computer, girlie."

"I know, I know…. Here, wait a minute. I'll call you right back." Gwen hung up the phone and began clicking around on the screen. She didn't see anything obvious to indicate what the next step was, but looks could be deceiving. Just then, the clock struck six forty-five, and the painting swung off to the side, revealing a small graphic of a safe. "Yes!" Gwen said victoriously, punching the combination they'd gotten into the safe.

The safe opened with a mechanical click, revealing one final message:

_Good work, scavengers! Online clowns, be sure to give your on-the-ground cohorts these final instructions: _

_Now, go to the parking lot next to the arts center at 8__th__ Ave. and 42__nd__ St. for a rendezvous with your contact. He will give you your final set of instructions._

_Stay together. Follow orders. You might have what it takes to pull this off. _

_~J_

Gwen was back on the phone with Deb in seconds. "Okay, Deb, I've got it. Go to the parking lot next to the arts center at eighth and forty-second street. Sounds like some guy will be waiting, and he'll tell you where to go now."

"Any idea what we're going to find when we get there?"

"Not a one," Gwen grinned.

"If you hurry, you might be able to drive down here and hook up with the group."

"Nah, that's okay. Thanks, though."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I think I'd rather stay here anyways."

"Suit yourself! I'll tell you all about it later." Deb hung up.

With nothing to do, Gwen turned her attention to the local news, leaving her laptop on just in case. The newscaster was interviewing the president of Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox, about efforts to negotiate a trade deal with a Chinese company based in Hong Kong.

"We're very excited about this deal," Mr. Fox told the newscaster with a smile. "If it comes to fruition, my company is certain that the deal will bring in much-needed revenue for the city of Gotham, and create new jobs."

Just then, her e-mail alerted her to a new message. It was from J--the Joker.

_"Good evening, Gwen. Hope you had a fun time directing my clowns around town. Right now, your friends are enjoying a presentation at their local theater. Feeling cheated? You clowns who manned the online end of the deal will get your own special treat. Rendezvous at eight o'clock sharp at Weston's, on 7__th__ Street and Johnstone, tomorrow night. Don't be late, or I'll know. ~J_"

**A/N: So there you have it, everyone. That one was a little bit longer than last time, which I thought might suit your tastes a bit better. :) Anyways...the story is getting close to its conclusion so, as Elphie said, if you want the sequel, speak now or forever hold your peace! Thank you, subscribers and reviewers. I live on your good wishes!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hi, all! I know it took me a while to get back...I wanted to update sooner, but I never had the time. Thank you to ready . aim . fire333, sanmi, ****alphito,**** and MonMaskedAnge for your encouragement regarding the sequel. I really appreciate the support. If anybody else would like to comment about the possibility of a sequel, feel free! Anyways, here's Chapter Eleven. It's about the same length as past chapters, not too long, not too short. This tale is drawing quickly to its conclusion, so read on!**

**Chapter Eleven: A Reward of Their Own**

Gwen got a call from Deb around seven-thirty, as promised. From what she said, everything had gone smoothly since when Gwen had gotten off the phone. They'd found the contact in the parking lot with no trouble at all, and he'd directed them to the closest movie theater. Once there, they were all herded into the smallest theater in the building and played a short film.

"It was hilarious! A little weird, though," Deb explained. "It looked like it was a parody on what's been going on here in Gotham recently. They had these really crappy actors playing Harvey Dent, Rachel Dawes, Batman…"

"Rachel Dawes?"

"Assistant DA. Remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Dent's girlfriend, too, if I remember right. Go on."

"So, yeah, and it was basically formatted like a teaser trailer, but it looked all vandalized, like somebody had scribbled all over the film. And then there was this guy, who I guess was supposed to be J, but I'm not sure. He showed up all through the trailer. He was making all these cryptic comments in the voice over, and he was the only character who hadn't been scribbled over by whoever did that to the film. It was a little funny, but it was really cool, G! You really missed out."

"Ah, well," Gwen smiled. "You know, manning the 'Net will wear you out! I was too tired to tag along, anyways."

"Oh, that's junk," Deb laughed. "Whatever, though. Oh, and I thought I saw one of the theater workers give one of the other guys that was with us a reel of film."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. I'm betting it was a copy of the trailer thing. Tomorrow it'll probably be all over Youtube. You can watch it then."

"Okay. I might do that. I'm going to go to bed now, okay?"

"Alrightie. Talk to you later!"

"'Kay."

Gwen slept late the next day, but the first thing she did when she got up was check for any sign of a link to the video Deb had talked about. She was stunned to find that the site had actually been shut down in the night. Surprised and disappointed, she clicked on the TV to see what had happened. As it were, Lieutenant Gordon was talking to the newscaster.

"So, Lieutenant Gordon, what prompted the shutdown of the website, again? The GPD has allowed it to run for nigh on two months now without problems," the newscaster, Engel, said.

"Well, sir," Gordon paused for a moment, as if deciding how to word what he was to say next. "We had had our suspicions about the website in question for a long while, almost since the creation of the site itself. There had been speculation that it tied in somehow to the events surrounding this year's Comic Convention. We cannot confirm or deny that. It had also been alleged that the site was involved in the attempted robbery at Gotham National Bank. However, the real proof of illegal activity associated with came last night, when an anonymous member posted a video of a reel of film shown illegally last night in twelve theaters across the city. Every effort is being made to track this member down. The rest of the members of the site will be kept anonymous and will not be held responsible for any criminal activity unless more evidence surfaces in the future. It is our hope that the shutdown of this site will halt the activities that have been taking place as part of the plot on , and that this motion will bring us one step closer to catching 'J,' the ringleader of the activities."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. And now, for a word on the weather from Anthony Von Weber. Anthony?"

The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Gwen. She got a call from Reeva in the late morning regarding the shutdown of the site, but they didn't talk for too long. Then, Tracy texted in the afternoon to tell Gwen that she'd found a link for the video reel on Youtube that had not been deleted yet. Gwen was in the middle of checking search results on Monster to check right away, but by the time that she got around to it the video was gone. It wasn't a big deal, of course, she told herself. The Joker had promised her and the other online players a reward of their own that evening.

As the afternoon came and went, Gwen found herself getting a little nervous about the event of the night ahead. What if the Joker was caught, and she was connected to his crimes--whatever they were--for coming to this meeting? Would the police believe her when she explained how she had been trying to prove the Joker's criminality all along? Worries plagued her. She thought about sending an e-mail to humanresources whysoserious . com about her problems, but decided against it in the end.

**A/N:** **Alright, guys, Chapter Eleven is in the bag. I know that wasn't a very good ending to the chapter, but for timing purposes it had to be cut that way. Sorry, but it's better than a cliffhanger, right? I hope everyone liked the way I treated the trailer showing. I thought that the part about the "really crappy actors" might crack some people up. Anyways, I'll be getting Chapter Twelve up as soon as I can, and after that there's only one more chapter to go! Can you believe it? Do you want more? Review! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: What's up, everyone? I hope you're all getting wired for the big finale. This is the second-to-last chapter, so you'd better be by now! :) I'd like to specifically respond to the review written by Sanmi following the release of chapter eleven. I have some fantastic news for you...that *is*, in fact, a real video. The vandalized Dark Knight trailer was a reward following one of the real scavenger hunts. One person at each showing really did get a copy of the film, so the trailer is available on YouTube. Search for "The Dork Knight." ...Anyways, here's Chapter Twelve. Enjoy!! ~G**

**Chapter Twelve: Play By My Rules**

Around seven, Gwen began preparing for her night out. Weston's was a very upscale restaurant, so Gwen knew that she would need to dress up. She started with her dress--in the end, she chose a black ensemble with a scooped back and that went down to just below her knees. It was very flattering without restricting her movements. Next, she turned her attention to her hair, pinning the bangs back to one side with a jewel-encrusted hairclip and curling the rest with a curling iron. Her makeup wasn't elaborate, and was meant only to accent her features. By the end of the process, she looked like a totally different person. Finally, for accessories, she chose a simple string of white pearls, a silver watch and some assorted rings that had belonged to her grandmother.

The hair took longest of all, and by the time Gwen got finished dressing up it was seven forty. She grabbed a small, black, boxlike purse with a long strap and loaded it up with her wallet, her keychain, her cell (turned off, of course) and some Kleenex. With one last look at her apartment, she clicked off the light and left.

At seven fifty-eight, Gwen pulled up to Weston's restaurant. It was mostly dark out, and the lights of the city around her were her only guide as she headed towards the door. A doorman opened it for her as she drew near and, hugging herself against a sudden chill, she stepped inside.

"How many?" the host asked her with a smile.

"The rest of my group should be waiting for me," Gwen said with a smile. She was a little confused; looking around, she didn't see any large groups of people at the tables. Where was the Joker and the rest of the online users?

A knowing glint lit up the host's eye. "Ah, I understand. Follow me please, ma'am."

The host led Gwen through the restaurant, past row upon row of tables filled with happy, chattering people digging into the delicious food that had made Weston's the restaurant superpower it was today. It seemed that he was leading her towards the very rear of the restaurant, into the kitchens, almost, when suddenly he took a sharp turn towards a door she hadn't seen before. There, outside of this door, was a small terrace located on the side of the restaurant. Gwen had never noticed this feature of the building when she was driving by. It was very quaint, there only being room for one small table. A metal railing surrounded it, and it was raised about six feet from the ground.

And there, seated at this table, alone and waiting for her, was the Joker.

He was, in some ways just as Gwen had imagined, and in other ways very different. His hair was stringy and looked, in the half-light provided by the candle at the table, as if it had been dyed a peculiar shade of greenish-brown. His face was very pale, possibly applied with makeup. Black circles ringed his eyes, and his lips were ruby red, drawn up on either side by horrendous scars, also this same shade of red, in a ghoulish smile. He wore a suit jacket in a middle shade of purple, a white dress shirt, and black slacks.

"Hello, Gwen," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. Trembling slightly, Gwen complied. She had felt brave at the thought of meeting the Joker in a group, but he had tricked her, and now she had to face him alone. "Waiter." Like clockwork, the young man snapped to attention. "Bring us our menus. Run along now, there's a good boy." The Joker made a shooing motion with his hand, and he was gone in an instant.

"Gwen." At the sound of her name, Gwen raised her eyes from the tablecloth to meet the Joker's own. He smiled congenially, but Gwen thought she saw the hint of a darker undertone. Why hadn't she ever noticed this before?, she asked herself desperately. "You seem so nervous. …Is it the scars? Want to know how I got them?"

"Oh, no, that's fine," Gwen managed to say.

The Joker chuckled. "What is it, then? Do I…do I _scare_ you, Gwen? Is that it?" When she said nothing, he added, "You've learned by now that I'm a man of my word, right?" Gwen nodded. The Joker, in a sudden motion, reached out and grasped her hand in both of his. "So you know, when I say that you can tell me, you know that I'm telling the truth. Right?"

Gwen nodded again, her face pale. Slowly, disjointedly, she began to speak. "The truth is…" The Joker held on to her hand and gazed at her with a slightly disturbing sort of anticipation. "Well, the truth is that you do scare me. A lot. I'm not going to lie about that. …But, then…in a way…I almost feel like I…like, I don't know, that I _understand _you, maybe. A bit more than I understand other people. So I don't know whether to be afraid or…what, you know?"

The Joker sat quietly for a couple of minutes, taking what she had said in. Finally, he looked back up at her. "Gwen. I called you here because I had something very important to tell you."

"Yes?" Gwen asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

The Joker paused, orchestrating his next words. "…A guy like me…needs people like you. Smart, resourceful people not set in their ways, who are willing to lay themselves down for something. Most of those people…well, they're expendable. They're not needed. Now, _you_ on the other hand…well, Gwen, you're the best clown working for me right now. But…" Here he seemed suddenly troubled, unable to say what he was trying to. "You need to leave Gotham, Gwen. Forever."

"What? Why?"

The Joker looked up into the night sky, not necessarily exasperated, but unsure of how to continue. "Look. Things are going to get bad for people like you very soon. And I'm sure you know why…it's the schemers. Like the GPD. They're already making the best effort they can to shut us all down. And Dent. He's only the beginning. If you want to get out, do it now."

"Well, what about people like you, then…J?" Gwen asked, faltering at the last minute from calling the Joker by his true name.

The Joker laughed mirthlessly. "The people like me will just keep doing what they're doing until somebody finally kills them. See, Gwen, I just want to show the masses how pitiful the schemers really are."

"How? What does that have to do with me?"

"If everything goes 'according to plan,' soon this city will belong to me. Everyone will play by my rules, and the truth is simple: I don't have rules. Look…listen, I'm trying to get you out of here before we reach that point."

"You don't think I can play by your rules? Listen…J. I'm not going anywhere. The thing is…"

Just then, the sound of gunshots erupted inside the restaurant.

**A/N: And there you have it. Gah, I just have to say, for somebody who's writing a Joker fanfiction, I dreaded coming to this part. You think writing Joker dialogue over the phone or in e-mails is hard? Writing for it face-to-face is even worse. So, um, yeah, I'm not sure how well it all came out, so if you think it was executed properly PLEASE review. I really, really want to know, even if you thought it was terrible. Next chapter...is....it! Come back soon, read and review, you know the drill. Au revoir! ~G**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Can you believe it, guys? Here we are, at the very last chapter! And no, by the way, I did not intend for there to be thirteen chapters, it just kind of worked out that way. ;) Hope my last chapter turned out pretty well, the outpouring of support I got sure seemed to get off that vibe. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everybody who's read, reviewed or subscribed. I hope you're satisfied with the end. Oh, and I'd like to respond to the review written by ready . aim . fire333 after the last chapter was posted: I'm glad that you picked up on that! I was hoping to convey the feeling that although Gwen started out honestly trying to take the Joker down, and that she had continued to tell herself that throughout the story, the way she reacted to events as the story continued might covey a bit different feeling. Maybe...even though she couldn't admit it to herself...she was having a change of heart? ....Well, was she or wasn't she? Please read on to find out, because this is the final chapter!! ~G**

**Chapter Thirteen: Remember That**

Gwen jumped to her feet in a panic, while the Joker calmly rose to his.

"The mob's here," he said, as if he'd been expecting this. Seeing Gwen's stunned expression, he added, "They have a contract out for me, Gwennie. Half a million dead, double alive. Surely you know that by now."

Suddenly, randomly, he pulled out a knife and advanced on Gwen. In a second, he had her pinned against the side railing of the terrace, the knife on her cheek. "Gwen…" he paused. "The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. _Remember that!_"

Without another word, the Joker shoved her up and over the edge of the terrace. Stunned, Gwen hit the ground without making a sound. When she looked back up, dazed, the Joker had disappeared from her view.

She lay there for a couple minutes, unmoving, then began to quietly check herself for injuries. Other than a few bruises she detected by touch, she seemed to be okay, as the fall had not been altogether very severe. Hanging on to one of the posts that supported the terrace, she struggled to her feet and looked around her. Just then, the impact of running footsteps jolted through the framework of the terrace, startling Gwen.

"Look! There he goes!" someone cried, and she heard the hard thump of several bodies hitting the ground just around the corner from her in quick succession. She was too scared to so much as breathe, but their footsteps headed away from her. She realized with surprise and confusion that the Joker was leading them away from her.

After a moment, she peeked around the corner of the terrace. The thugs were still in sight, but were about to disappear around the corner of a warehouse across the lot. Quickly, ignoring the aches and protests of her bruising muscles, she began to creep after them. She stayed fifty yards behind, but even so walking across the lot was like hiding in plain sight. However, the thugs were so intent on their quarry that they never thought to look behind them. When she rounded the corner of the warehouse, she saw that they had disappeared inside.

The doors to the warehouse were open, and the enormous space was loosely crowded with boxes and crates. Gwen wound her way through the labyrinth after the men, who seemed to be heading for a staircase which, as far as Gwen could tell, led to the roof. She ducked behind a crate as the men took to the stairs and then, once they were out of sight, followed.

The Joker stood on the far corner of the warehouse roof, overlooking the city below him. The thugs were behind him and quickly advancing nearer, guns drawn. He seemed to ignore them. Gwen watched with bated breath. She wanted to scream, to get help, to do something, but she couldn't think how. As the men cornered the Joker, he turned to face them. There were four of them, each with a hefty-looking gun, and they had him boxed in on all sides.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said smoothly.

"It's the end of the road, clown," one of the goons shot back. "Come quietly, and we promise not to hurt you."

"Promises, promises, lofty promises," the Joker mocked. "You know, this city deserves a better class of criminal. I know a schemer when I see one, Mr. Machine Gun. You're just going to take me to your boss, who's been _scheming_ all along to finish me off. I know, I know. Now, a guy like me…I'm a man of my word. I've said that over and over again. So you know that when I say we're all going to have a blast…" Just then, the Joker turned around and leapt off of the rooftop.

"NO!" Gwen cried, then froze in horror. The four men turned around to regard her.

"Take her out!" the leader of the outfit shouted.

Not looking back, Gwen raced back down the staircase as fast as she could, just in time to miss the volley of gunshots that decimated the doorway in which she had been hiding. She quickly ran back into the maze of boxes, but the warehouse's entrance was far away. She could hear the men behind her, shouting orders and trying to navigate the labyrinth themselves. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Just then, the door loomed before her. The way was clear. Gasping for breath, she dashed outside into the crisp night air and started around the side of the warehouse for the street that ran pass it to the west, also passing Weston's and the empty lot. She hoped that she'd at least make it to corner and find the Joker… Gwen's eyes filled with tears at the thought of his fate. Why had he jumped? He had just finished explaining to her that people like him would never stop until someone killed them! The thought tormented her. She kept moving.

Then, an enormous reverberation of sound and a blinding flash overwhelmed Gwen. She was thrown back with the force of the thunderous explosion, and landed facedown on the pavement. Debris pummeled the ground all around her, but she was too stunned to get to her feet and run. Dust filled the air. Finally, the sound quieted. Gwen rolled over onto her back and looked at the scene before her. She gasped. The warehouse was completely _gone_.

This time, Gwen felt that she couldn't get up, but after a time she was able to sit up and look around her. She didn't know how long she'd lain there, but no emergency crews had arrived yet, so she knew it hadn't been long. Just then, a dark form appeared before her in the haze.

"Hello?" she said in a choked voice. Just then, the form became clear. It was the Joker.

Gwen stared at in in unguarded shock. The Joker shrugged. "There was a fire escape on the building side, Gwennie. You didn't really think I'd give myself up that easily, did you? No, no, not me. I've still got plenty of chaos to make." Gwen managed a weak smile. "Now, this raises an interesting question. Why did _you_ follow me?"

Gwen thought for a moment. Then, with a wry smile, she said, "The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules, right?"

The Joker laughed, maniacally, hysterically, his merry chuckles ringing through the eerie silence. Then, he reached out and pulled her to her feet. "I, ah, called you here because I thought you couldn't play by my rules. Maybe I was wrong. Even the best clowns can't know everything, right, Gwennie?"

"Of course not."

"Things are going to get a lot worse. Can you take it?"

"Yes," Gwen said decisively. "Because, you know, the thing I was trying to tell you at the restaurant…"

"Mm-hmm."

"The thing is…I can't leave Gotham, because I'm not going to leave you…J."

The Joker flipped out a knife again and put one arm around her waist, caressing her cheek with it. Finally, he told her, "You know something, Gwen…I think you need to smile more."

Their lips met for a brief, indescribably perfect moment. Then, the scream of faint sirens sounded in the distance.

"Which way is your car?" the Joker asked.

"Over there," Gwen said, pointing.

"We'd best be off."

And on that note, the two stumbled off into the haze, Gwen's arm around the Joker's shoulders for support. And although they knew that they had much yet to overcome, and many perils they would yet face…for the moment, what they had was enough.

**A/N: Well, guys, I know I've kept you in suspense long enough, but the moment I penned the last word of this story, I knew that there *had* to be a sequel. Even I needed to know how Gwen and the Joker's relationship would play out. So yes, I am telling you now, there WILL be a sequel. I hope to have the first chapter of it up soon, so everybody please please please keep your eyes on Elphie's profile for when it gets kicked off. I wouldn't want anybody who's been enjoying this story to miss out on what happens next! Anyways, I'm really hoping that you enjoyed this. I wanted it to be a different spin on the classic Joker/OC stories which fill the Dark Knight forum, and I hope I succeeded. I thought it turned out to be quite unique, and I hope that you all agree! So, I know I always say this, but it's especially important now, since the story is over: I *must* know what you thought! Please, if you feel the urge, do review! I'd love to hear your thoughts. ...Just to give you all a bit of a sneak peek, the next sequel will sort of bridge the gap between this story and the start of the Dark Knight. I hope to fill several inconsistencies between my DK universe and the one from the film. In addition, be prepared for appearances from many other characters from the film. Bruce Wayne, Rachel Dawes and Gordon will all be making appearances, so if you're a fan of any of those characters, you'll probably enjoy the sequel more than you did the original. ...And, there you have it, guys! That's all I have to say! Hope you've enjoyed this, and thanks for coming along for the ride! I appreciate every one of you! Peace!! ~G**


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